


The Utmost Rudimentary Firsts

by Gem_Gem, KittieHill



Series: Kittie And Gem Stories [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Bossy bottom John, Bottom John, Declarations Of Love, Early established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, First Time, If you don't like Bottom John, John has never shagged a man, Kissing, Love, M/M, Top Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, but he's not opposed to it, this isn't the fic for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-08-11 02:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: “I've never done it with a man...” John admitted nervously, “I mean, I have no hang ups about it… I'm not going to have a massive sexuality crisis but, what about you? I didn't think you were interested in the physical stuff?”“I’m interested in you,” Sherlock replied, giving John’s cheek another kiss and stroking his soft lips up along the hot helix of John’s ear, exhaling his next few words there. “All of you.”“Right...” John blushed, ducking his head and leaning further into Sherlock's body, trying to get a handle of the sudden unplanned, though not unwelcome, shift in their intimacy, “have you er – have you thought about how you want to – to do it? I mean… who is going to be the receiver? I don't mind, but I might need to psyche myself up a little beforehand. The most I've had is a finger up there.”“I honestly don’t care. I just want to have sex with you,” Sherlock said, dragging his murmuring mouth up to John’s temple. “Or be naked with you at the very least.” He huffed out a small chuckle and then caressed John’s nape with soothing, talented fingers. “There are many ways we could have sex. I’m not picky on which one you’d rather we do.”





	1. Chapter 1

John was just finishing the last of his tea in quick pulls, half leaning over the cluttered sink to put the mug down into it before he had to leave for work, when Sherlock silently came up behind. Being utterly unprepared for the sneaking man’s antics, John jumped, cursed, and almost elbowed his dressing gown clad stomach on reflex alone. It wasn’t the first time Sherlock had sneaked silently behind John and he knew it would not be the last, but it still irked him all the same and he shot a stern glare over his shoulder, breathing roughly through his nose to expel some of his anger and calm his racing heart. All was forgiven, however, when Sherlock wrapped his arms about John’s waist with a smile, leaned into his back warmly, and pushed his face into the crook of John’s neck. It was a welcome gift, an appropriate apology, and a lovely greeting.

They had started being more intimate, being more than friends, several days prior on a Tuesday afternoon, and so far hadn’t really done more than embrace, hold hands and share a few, innocent, brief kisses. Not that it mattered. John didn’t want to rush anything or force Sherlock into something that he would rather not do. He relished each touch for what they were, a brilliant new addition to their already formidable relationship. He loved knowing Sherlock felt something, that his adoration for Sherlock, for their life together, was returned. It was exciting. A new whirlwind of anticipation and adventure.

Since that Tuesday, where they had agreed, mutually, and almost non-verbally, to cross the taut wavering line of friendship between them together, things had seemed more relaxed and comfortable. As though a great weight, a massive strain, had been lifted from them. There was still some awkwardness and tension, as most new relationships contain, but it wasn’t like it had been before. It felt clumsy but real. Perfect in its own flawed way.

“Good morning,” John smiled, tilting his head to rest against Sherlock's own, “Sleep well?”

Sherlock hummed in response with a moist exhale of breath and very faintly kissed at John’s pulse point, “Morning.”

“I had rather an odd dream about you fighting a kangaroo,” John said, twisting around to wrap his arms about Sherlock's body. “The kangaroo won.”

Sherlock frowned, the crease that John couldn’t help but love appearing between his eyebrows, “Why would I fight a kangaroo in the first place?” he asked.

“Mycroft said you couldn't,” John smirked in response, arching up on tiptoes to kiss his forehead. “So, what are you going to do today? I'm working until six but I thought we could maybe get take away and watch a film when I get back? Or we could go to Angelo’s? It's been ages since we went out.”

Sherlock tilted his head in consideration, not accepting or dismissing John’s suggestions, and shifted his stance, looking John in the eyes with interest and giving a vague, casual shrug, “I’d rather have sex with you.”

“I – _Oh_ , right,” John spluttered, lifting his eyebrows in momentarily shock, registering what Sherlock was asking. He felt his face heat as he stared back, watching the flicker of his pale eyes and the terse, unsure pout of his mouth. “Yeah? Yeah we could do.” John’s apprehension strangled the words in his throat and he darted his eyes over Sherlock’s expression in turn, trying to read him, trying to work out if it was a test or an actual request. “You're sure?”

“No. I just wanted to see your reaction,” Sherlock drawled with immense sarcasm, rolling his eyes. “ _Yes_ , I’m sure. I wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise.” With a quiet sigh he leaned in to gently kiss John’s cheek and cupped both sides of his neck with warm, tender, stroking hands. “I thought that...perhaps it was time we gave it a go. I know how much sex means to you and I am not against it if it’s with a partner I find... _stimulating_.”

“I've never done it with a man...” John admitted nervously, “I mean, I have no hang ups about it… I'm not going to have a massive sexuality crisis but, what about you? I didn't think you were interested in the physical stuff?”

“I’m interested in _you_ ,” Sherlock replied, giving John’s cheek another kiss and stroking his soft lips up along the hot helix of John’s ear, exhaling his next few words there. “ _All_ of you.”

“Right...” John blushed, ducking his head and leaning further into Sherlock's body, trying to get a handle of the sudden unplanned, though not unwelcome, shift in their intimacy, “have you er – have you thought about how you want to – to do it? I mean… who is going to be the receiver? I don't mind, but I might need to psyche myself up a little beforehand. The most I've had is a finger up there.”

“I honestly don’t care. I just want to have sex with you,” Sherlock said, dragging his murmuring mouth up to John’s temple. “Or be naked with you at the _very_ least.” He huffed out a small chuckle and then caressed John’s nape with soothing, talented fingers. “There are many ways we could have sex. I’m not picky on which one you’d rather we do.”

John hummed, enjoying the sensation, feeling his cock plump between them, yet pulled back, kissing Sherlock softly on the corner of his mouth, “I need to go to work… we can talk more about this when I get home?-- _Oh_. Do you have er – condoms? And lube? I've ran out.”

“I can get some,” Sherlock rumbled and trailed his fingers along John’s jaw, then over his mouth, rubbing at the shape of John’s bottom lip before bending down to take it between his teeth. “I’ll stock up.”

“Okay. Okay. That's – yeah,” John grinned with a sweep of his tongue, one hand moving to cup Sherlock's cheek, “I'll get home as quick as I can.”

Sherlock returned the grin with a dirty, sultry one of his own and gave him yet another kiss, this one heated and slightly promiscuous, “ _Good_.”

John cleared his throat and reached for his cock, flicking his eyes away with embarrassment as he rearranged himself to a less obvious position. Giving Sherlock one final embrace, with arms and lips both, John stepped away, grabbed his coat, his bag, and smiled with a jaunty wave as he left, hurrying down the stairs and outside to flag down a cab. Body hyper aware of Sherlock’s gaze at the back of his head, nervousness and excitement battling for dominance. In the end, excitement won out, and he turned his eyes up at the flat, his heart throbbing and skin hot at the alluring sight of Sherlock standing in the living room window.


	2. Chapter 2

John exited his office with a spring in his step, one he was sure people noticed, considering it was embarrassingly similar to an actual skip. His workload had been remarkably light and easy, which had allowed him the glorious opportunity to think and wonder about what Sherlock had in store for him back at the flat. What they’d end up doing. What he wanted to do. What he might change his mind about. What he might like and dislike. The detective, impatient as ever, had already sent him texts, seemingly from a sex shop, asking his opinion on various lubricants and whether John had a preference. John didn't, and told Sherlock to ask the staff. Something he wished he could have seen for himself.

As he left the clinic he pinched a handful of condoms from the family planning clinic, only feeling a slight twinge of guilty regret as he threw them in his bag, alongside an enema kit – just in case. Despite the blush on his face and the awkward, entirely too obvious hitch of his bag on his way out, Sarah and the receptionist, only smiled at him and waved, leaving him feeling like he did as a teenage boy, nicking pocketfuls of condoms.

Walking back into Baker Street after an uneventful commute, John pushed open the door to the flat and called out for Sherlock, kicking off his shoes and wandering into the living room, heart already thumping. He was nervous, immensely so, and excited and curious and downright thrumming with arousal. A thousand and one thoughts, filthy imaginations, and half cooked daydreams were spinning through his mind, fighting for dominance, spilling up behind his eyes, churning his desire ever thicker, ever hotter, yet nothing could have compared, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw as he stepped foot into the room.

Sherlock was sitting completely naked on John’s armchair, three bottles of lubricant on the small side table beside him next to a heap of multicoloured condoms in front of him, “Before you say anything about our activities ruining the fabric of the seat, I’m sitting on my dressing gown so your chair will be stain free,” he told John with a wave of his hand, head turning to look at him with a flirtatious and come-hither smirk, eyes hooded.

“I...” John trailed off, licking his lips and swallowing his sudden mouthful of saliva, losing all control of his body as it jerked forward before he could think of closing the distance. He watched himself, as if from afar, walk steadily across to abruptly pin Sherlock to the chair with the force of a passionate, breath-stealing kiss. Bulling his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, John let loose an overwhelmed groan, his hand coming to rest on Sherlock's warm thighs.

Pale, long-fingered hands made swift progress on the buttons of John’s shirt and the knot of his tie, pushing and throwing both aside once they’d slackened, “Clothes. _Off_ ,” he grunted against John’s lips. “Now. _Now_ , John.”

“Yeah...” John hummed, barely allowing his mouth to move from Sherlock's as he let himself be roughly undressed, only pulling away to yank off his vest and attack the buttons of his trousers. Pulling them down, John let the boxers fall too, standing naked and aroused in their living room, penis thickening in the warm air between them. He had a momentary worry that perhaps their opposite neighbours would be able to see into the sitting room, but shook it away as he dived for Sherlock again. “I've been _so_ excited for this all day.”

“Glad I wasn’t the only one,” Sherlock murmured in reply, pulling at John’s legs and stroking the backs of his knees, urging him closer, wanting him nearer. “Come here. Sit on my lap. I want you on my lap, against me, touching me, _covering_ me.”

“You sure?” John asked, already shaking with lust, “my arse is _significantly_ bigger than your thighs. I might squash you. In fact, I’m _sure_ I will.”

Sherlock leaned his head back on the headrest and signalled at John impatiently, grunting low and gruffly wanting in his throat, “Yes, yes, _hilarious_ — _Get on me_. I need to feel you. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Squash me. _Crush_ me. Smother me, I don’t care, I just _need_ you touching me.”

John rolled his eyes, but tentatively sat on Sherlock's thighs, it was odd to be in this position, usually it was his girlfriends who were the passive partner, yet he felt completely at ease in Sherlock's personal space, “Good?”

“No. No, I...I want you c _loser_ ,” Sherlock demanded thickly, tugging and shuffling John nearer with a hot hand to the small of his back. When he was satisfied, once their bare abdomens brushing, resting, together, Sherlock slipped both arms around John’s body and grinned broadly, looking him over with a greedy gaze. “ _Brilliant_.”

“Mm, it's not bad for me either,” John said as he let himself leaned further forward, nuzzling and kissing at Sherlock's smooth, pinked jaw. “It was incredibly hard to be at work today… and I was incredibly _hard_ at work.”

“Good to know,” Sherlock snorted, caressing and kneading the curves of John’s shoulder blades, holding him intimately close. “Did you think about what you wanted to do? Or are you game for anything? Because I am. _Anything_. Anything _at all_.”

“I er...” John blushed, hiding himself in the crook of Sherlock's neck, “I think I’d like you to – to... fuck me?”

Sherlock’s thighs flexed beneath him in an instant, eager response, “ _Oh_. Yes. Yes, all right – I bought the necessary items for it. Spent most of the afternoon researching that very thing _specifically_ , in case you wanted that, so...good call,” he said huskily, tickling down John’s spine to give the crease of his bum a teasing rub. “Great call. The _best_...”

“Bed?” John asked, stroking Sherlock's face, following the elegant arcs of his cheekbones with his fingertips, “I think I’d prefer a flat surface for our first time…and I, er, I… I brought back an enema so I’ll do that first before we start anything too. - Do you want to go and grab some flannels and towels before I go in the bathroom?”

“Yes, I can do,” Sherlock replied, though he didn’t seem content to let John go just yet, as he moved one hand to John’s chest and walked his fingers down to his navel, then his pelvis, clearly with one destination in mind.

John sighed shakily, his hard cock twitching and bouncing up, as though desperate to touch Sherlock's hand, desperate for some contact, “No rush though.”

Sherlock inclined his head in agreement and lightly scratched through John’s pubic hair as he dragged his hand down, “No rush at all,” he murmured, smearing a kiss to John’s cheek, chin, the underside of his bottom lip, as he danced, twirled, and skimmed his fingers to the base of John’s erection, curling his whole hand around to squeeze with a low, quivering sound of unadulterated craving.

John made a grumbling sound from his chest in reply and moved forward to kiss Sherlock again, allowing the chaste, tender peck to become deep and sensual, his cock beginning to gently leak pre-come the longer Sherlock squeezed, gripped, and teasingly stroked every inch of the hot, hardened skin. The feeling was intense, the inability to masturbate at work had left him frustrated and extremely aroused all day, so Sherlock's touch felt a hundred times better than his own would.

“Touch _me_ ,” Sherlock told him when they broke away for a few heaving breaths, his fingers moving up to cup and play with the sensitive cock-head, fingering the swollen edges of the glans, foreskin and frenulum. Rocking in twitchy jolts of his hips, John moved his hand to Sherlock's chest, mapping out every bit from neck to nipples, smiling as he began to gently caress, pinch and roll Sherlock's nipples between his fingers with a gravely hum of pleasure, watching Sherlock arch and wriggle in enjoyment. He shot John a sullen look, beginning a slow, building rhythm with both hand and hips. “That’s nice, I’ll admit, but I was hoping you’d go _lower_...”

“I'm getting there,” John promised, kissing the tip of Sherlock's regal nose while his hand trailed further and further, circling the soft indent of Sherlock's belly button, before finally getting his grasp around Sherlock's cock for a few slow, gentle, teasing strokes with a moan. He felt good against his palm, under his fingers. Hot, rigid, silky smooth and warmly damp at the tip. John coated his skin in the fluid, spreading it, painting with it, and dipped his fingertip in for more.

With a hitching inhale, Sherlock watched himself ooze over John’s eager exploration and rocked instinctively forward, his face flushed, “ _Yes_...” he breathed, tightening his grip on John’s shaft and then stroking up, around, and along the sensitive head. He seemed startled, entranced and withdrawn all at once, his lips parted and eyes unfocused. He was beautiful. He was lost.

“Hey?” John whispered, his free hand moving to touch Sherlock's chin, grounding him. “Stay with me? Right here...” He leaned in to kiss each corner of Sherlock's lips, his hand still maintaining the same rhythm, even as Sherlock squirmed for more. “ _Right here_ with me, Sherlock.”

Sherlock gave a loud drawn-out groan and blinked, nuzzling for another kiss, trying to mimic the pace John had set himself, stroking along with him, keeping the speed and pressure the same, “ _Yes_ ,” he whimpered, eyelids fluttering. “Yes, John.”

John twisted his hand, rolling a thumb into the wet band of foreskin, whilst tangling his other hand into Sherlock's curls, seizing them in a pulling grip, twisting rings of hair around his knuckles. His own cock was leaking a lot, soaking across Sherlock's fingers and John's stomach, and he moaned deeply, pushing his hips up into his lover's touch, “That's good, Sherlock. _So good_...”

“ _Mm_ – God... _yes_...” Sherlock husked in reply, nudging in to fit their mouths together, lightly at first, and then with more passion and eagerness. His own erection was twitching under John’s fingers, straining hard and long. He was getting close already, it wouldn’t take long for Sherlock to tip over the edge and spill, scorching and thick between them.

“Do you want to stop before we come?” John uttered on a shaky exhale, bucking his hips, “I'm not sure how good my energy levels are and whether I can get hard again so quickly – although I'm definitely willing to try.”

Pausing, Sherlock blinked, slow and sluggish, “No – I mean, _yes_. I want to stop before that. I just wanted to touch you,” he said with an incredibly broken, wispy timbre to his tone, glancing down between their bodies, pupils dilated.

“You _a_ _re_ touching me,” John hummed, his own voice deep and husky. “Our bodies are pressed together. Your hand is on me. I can feel it and it feels _so good_ …”

“...You look really great naked, John. Amazing. Fantastic. _Brilliant_ ,” Sherlock told him offhandedly, still stroking John and looking him over, eyes bright, thin rings of shocking blue around deep, black, bottomless spheres. “I’d like to see you naked a lot more after this. Perhaps daily. Twice daily—No, thrice!”

“I do, occasionally, sleep naked,” John said, licking around his suddenly dry mouth, “If we... shared a bed, then you would see me naked at _least_ twice a day? Maybe more if we have regular sex – Which I’m, uh, not at _all_ against.” He smiled at Sherlock, every bit of him buzzing and alive and boiling with desire. “I’d like to see _you_ naked more often too. You're... incredibly lovely to look at.”

Sherlock choked on a laugh and a moan, peering into John’s face with a wonky, dimpled grin, “All right,” he agreed, bouncing John on his legs with a frisky jump and kissing him again as he let go of his tight, thick cock. “Let’s go...let’s go into the bedroom now.”

“Okay,” John smiled, returning the kiss with a passionate one of his own and one last stroke of his cock. It took some shuffling and giggling from the both of them, but John stood again onto shaky legs, his dick out in front of him as he reached out his hand to take Sherlock's. “Come on then.”


	3. Chapter 3

It took an undignified heave and sway for Sherlock to get to his feet, but he didn’t seem to care about how lacking in grace he was and pushed into John’s side. He swiped an arm out, taking all the bottles of lube in one hand and then reached for a handful of condoms with the other, smirking widely at John with a look of pure, excited delight. It made John’s heart soar and skip a beat. He adored this man more than he could explain.

“Just how many times are you planning on shagging me?” John huffed with a laugh, dragging Sherlock towards the bedroom before he had a chance to reply, stopping in the kitchen, then the short corridor, for several wild snogs up against the nearby walls. Every inch of him was tingling, itching, crawling to do more, to get closer, to kiss harder.

“As... often as you let me?” Sherlock replied between presses of lips, giving John a cheeky glance from under his lashes when he pulled back.

“Let’s get the first time out of the way, yeah?” John asked nervously, eyes flicking up and down Sherlock's face. “I might not – it might not be for me.”

Sherlock frowned with a squint but nodded, “Right, right, of course,” he said, giving John another kiss. “That’s fine.”

“We could try it the other way too?” John suggested, pulling Sherlock the last few steps to his bedroom. “If you wanted to try? I could try and er – penetrate you?”

“Yes, yes that’s fine with me,” Sherlock replied, putting all the bottles down on the bedside table once they entered and throwing the condoms beside them. He fiddled with some of them, checking the packaging and cupping his eagerly bobbing penis, shutting the door behind them with his foot.

John looked around, feeling out of place and more than a little nervous now they had relocated, and hesitated for a moment at the edge of the bed, before reaching for Sherlock’s hand, “Come here,” he said as sensually as he could manage, peppering his face and neck with kisses, arms wrapping around Sherlock's waist to pull him close enough that he could feel Sherlock's slick cock against his stomach. “How do you want me?”

Humming, Sherlock reached down to cup John’s backside, doing nothing more than holding him as John had held other lovers in the past, not that he wanted to think about them now, or ever, “However you’re comfortable,” he replied. “Would it be best if you were facing away from me? That’s what I saw the most online.”

Frowning gently, John shook his head, “No. No, I think I want to be looking at you. I want to see you. Watch when you –” His breath hitched and he blushed, quick and burning. “When... you enter me for the first time...”

Sherlock nodded and nuzzled him, cheeks blazing red, “Get on the bed then,” he murmured, nipping at John’s collarbone briefly.

John, taking a deep inhale did as he was told, sitting on the edge and then shuffling over to the middle, enjoying the conforming shape of Sherlock's mattress with a groan, a luxury that John could never afford, before raising an eyebrow, “We're _definitely_ sleeping together from now on. This is the _best bed ever._ ”

“Don’t be stupid,” Sherlock said with a small chuckle and a roll of his eyes, crawling after him.

“Mm-mm, but it is though,” John laughed, opening his arms for him to get on top for more kisses and wrapping his legs around Sherlock's own. John moved them until their erections were aligned and lifted his hips with a rotating, rutting roll. “ _Oh_ , that's good. Yeah… let’s do this for a little bit...”

Sherlock stabilised himself over John on his elbows for a moment and then let out a grunt of pleasure, glancing down as he undulated back and forth, “No arguments here...”

As they moved together, John reached over to the bedside table, opening a bottle at random and pouring some lube into his palm. A rush of sweet fruity scent filled the air, putting them suddenly off beat with one another as it invaded their senses, and John laughed at the offended look Sherlock gave the jiggling mass in his cupped hand, throwing the bottle back. Reaching down, regardless of Sherlock’s whine of protest at the overpowering smell, he coated the gel on their cocks as his other hand sneaked around to cup Sherlock's buttock, rocking and moving him to the soft, wholly arousing squelch it made as they rubbed together.

“Yeah… God, _yes_!”

“...Can I bite you a little?” Sherlock asked hoarsely after a few thrusts, eyes flicking over John’s face as he shifted and groaned in the back of his throat, the low rumbles reverberating through John’s very bones. “I’ve been thinking about it most of the day too. About...marking you and... _tasting_ certain parts of you...”

John's eyelids flickered with excitement and he nodded quickly when Sherlock lifted a questioning brow, “Yeah… _anything_ you want. Just be careful of my scar, as it can be a bit tender, but other than that – yeah, bite and mark me. Show everyone I'm yours— _Ah_!”

Sherlock, having dived for John’s neck before he had finished talking, began licking, nibbling, and then hungrily sucking a patch of skin into his mouth with possessive intent. The permission to claim, to bruise, to blemish the flesh laid out before him made Sherlock a little rougher and a lot more eager, and John shivered as Sherlock rubbed and writhed his hips, pelvis and genitals against John’s abruptly pinned body. His large, flourishing hands stroked and groped wherever and whatever they were near, one of them soon slipping up through John’s hair as the other slid down to claw at one of John’s buttocks. Being the centre of Sherlock’s attention and inspecting, artistic hands in this capacity, was a lot more intense than John had imagined or expected, different than anything they’d done previously, even in the thrilling moments in the living room. It felt more raw and wanting and greedy and dizzying with Sherlock’s teeth, tongue and lips attached to his throat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” John hissed, tilting his head to give Sherlock more space, more access and spreading his legs, which twitched with pleasure. He increased the hold on Sherlock's arse, fingers tightening and digging to almost bruise. “Fuck _yes_ , Sherlock...”

When Sherlock’s mouth finally released him from it’s grinding, pinching clasp, he moved to mark and kiss and lick John’s shoulder, collarbones and chest, getting further enthusiastic the more of John he sampled, “You smell as good as you taste,” he mumbled over John’s left nipple, playfully trapping it between his teeth for a mini nip.

“I smell like sweat and work,” John blushed, lifting a hand to rub through Sherlock's hair, watching his pebbled nipple redden against Sherlock's soothing tongue tip, “Musk and antiseptic, that can't be pleasant.”

“That’s not how you smell.” Turning his head aside to glance up at John, Sherlock nuzzled John’s nipple for a moment, tracing symbols over it with his tongue, and then left it alone, cocking giving a thick twitch. “It’s _very_ pleasant, your scent. It is a mixture of things. Things that are so very _you_. Things that linger on your skin, in your hair. That have entwined with your natural essence after years and years. You smell of many wonderful things, John. Just _wonderful_.”

John moaned, his head falling onto the pillow with a dull thud, “I think – I think we should get on with the main event now. I'm... not sure how much longer I'll last with you on top of me like this… do you, er – want to prepare me? Or should I do it myself?”

“ _No_! I’ll do it,” Sherlock said quickly, leaning up and away to grab the lube bottle again. “I can do it. I _want_ to do it.”

“Okay. Good,” John smiled, reaching to stroke his flat, white stomach softly and widening the space between his legs, his feet coming to rest flat on the bed. Feeling nervousness building once more, John tried to push it to the back of his mind, tried to focus on Sherlock’s open expression and heated eyes, and grabbed a pillow to put under his hips. “Th-thank you. I, uh, I was— _Wait_! The enema...I haven’t...I _should_...I don’t want too--”

“You’re fine, John. _Relax_. I have baby wipes in the bottom drawer of the left bedside table if we need them - I’ll be giving you a bit of a fondle first anyway,” Sherlock said with a twist of his mouth, dribbling lube onto John’s genitals cheekily and then onto his own hand.

“Oh yes, gimme a good fondle,” John laughed, feeling the tension leaving his body and looking down between his own thighs with a pleased grin. “And _baby wipes_? Really?”

“Shut up. I have sensitive skin.” Sherlock tossed the bottle over his shoulder once he was done and rubbed his hands together. “So, a fondle. And a kiss.” He looked John over, swooping down to kiss and nuzzle John’s stomach. “Several kisses...” Covering John’s lower body in brief, sweet, and soft kisses, Sherlock grinned up at him, lips pressed to a spot on his hip, then finally cupped and rubbed at John’s cock and scrotum.

“You're far more _tactile_ than I imagined… and I imagined this _a lot_ ,” John grinned, winking down at Sherlock. “I didn't expect you to be this – _hands_ on.”

“Really? _Me_? _Not_ hands on? _Really_?” Sherlock scoffed as he massaged and stroked, slicking his skin warmly.

“I expected you to just lie down and demand I do all the work,” John teased, moving his foot to dig his toe into Sherlock's side. “I'm just happy you didn't bring your notepad and pen in to make notes during.”

Sherlock hummed, seeming to light-heartedly deliberate such a notion, “Now _there’s_ an idea...”

“Sod off! - Next time, perhaps, yeah? I'll let you do measurements and make graphs and even bring in a stopwatch,” John huffed in amusement, looking adoringly at him, unable to stop his mouth from twisting into a dopey grin, “but this time, I’d just like to have some lovely sex and mind-shattering orgasms please.”

Giving another few kisses, one to John’s knee and another to his inner thigh, Sherlock stroked his fingers down over his perineum and eased his buttocks apart with a tickling crook of his fingers, “Hope you don’t need to break wind anytime soon?--Gosh that would be an interesting sensation though,” he chuckled.

“ _Oh my_ _G_ _od_ ,” John laughed, covering his face with his hands. “You're disgusting! I'm _trying_ to be sexy here – _L_ _ook_ at me, I'm even in a somewhat of a sexy pose! And you're talking about farting!”

Sherlock grinned at him and circled the intimately warm, tense, crumpled skin of John’s anus, “All I’m saying is that if you need to let one go, you best do it now, before I do anything,” he said between deep, shoulder-shaking chuckles.

“I think I'm okay, but I'll let you know if the need arises,” John snorted, shaking his head and attempting to relax his muscles, the odd sensation against his arse, foreign and tickling somewhere only John had touched, immediately making him tense even more. Sherlock, himself calm and incredibly at ease, stroked and petted and slicked John gently, taking his time, one cheek dropping to press and drag against the sensitive, flushed skin of John’s inner thighs as John took a few deep breaths. “Feels nice. - How... does it feel for you?”

“ _Arousing_ ,” Sherlock replied with a gruff growl, dipping the very tip of his finger inside for just a moment, a promise of more to come. “Interesting. Desirable.”

“It's odd, but... I feel different. Normally when I've been with – well, _before_ ,” he said, not wanting to raise the subject of his exes whilst Sherlock was fiddling with his bum, “I've always felt like _I_ was the one in control, I was the dominant partner, but with you…it’s you, you know? It's nice. Good. Strangely relaxing in some instances. It’s nice that I feel... cared for. I _trust_ you and I feel _completely_ surrounded by you... does that – that sounds rubbish doesn't it?”

“I trust you too,” Sherlock smiled, leaning up to give him a kiss on the lips. “Tell me if that changes though and I’ll stop.”

John nodded in agreement and let out a deep exhale before smiling, mouth shifting as he battled between throwing himself at Sherlock and curled up aside coy and unsure, despite his words, “Go on then, give it a try. Put one in. _One_.”

“Sexy,” Sherlock mumbled sarcastically, giving John another kiss while, at the same moment, he slowly pressed his middle finger against John, pushing and sliding it into John skilfully. It didn’t hurt, but the pressure and the surprise of it, sent instant sharp licking jolts up through the middle of him.

“ _Oh_!” he whispered, eyes immediately fixing on Sherlock. When he had last indulged in such an act, or rather, when he had last asked to be fingered, his ex had been a female with much smaller and daintier fingers, so feeling Sherlock's longer, callused male finger pushing up inside him was extraordinary, making him clamp down hard with a stuttering breath. John tried to calm himself again, easing his locked up, shaky, muscles and reached for Sherlock to give him another kiss, mumbling against his lips. “Your fingers are _very_ long...”

“All the better for... _penetrating_ with, my dear,” Sherlock purred with a wide grin and a puff of laughter, very steadily curling the finger to brush at John’s prostate on the second stroke, grin getting broader.

John laughed in response, shaking his head and then arching when his prostate was stimulated again, sending his stomach bunching, juddering and trembling, “ _Oh_ ,” he moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “Oh _fuck_ that's – that's _good_. I _like_ that.”

“Yes? I best do it again then,” he whispered, biting at John’s bottom lip as he stroked the bundle with flickering touches, “and again...and again...and _again_...and perhaps _once more_ for luck...”

John’s spine snapped into an arced, sweat breaking out on his forehead, upper lip and along his back as he groaned breathlessly and tried to push himself further onto Sherlock's finger, his nervousness seemingly abated. He reached up to tug on Sherlock's hair, pulling him down for a blisteringly exuberant clash of mouths, “ _More_...” John demanded.

Sherlock’s lips curled up at one side and he withdrew his finger, only to push it back in, touching John’s prostate with a wet sliding press, “Like this?”

An inelegant snort hitched painfully in his chest in reply and John flailed to grip a hold of Sherlock's back, the pleasure almost blinding, “More… _m_ _ore_ fingers!

Sherlock peered down into his face, gaze overpowering and keenly alert, watching, following and absorbing each rippling tic of emotion that tugged at John’s brows, eyes, nose, and mouth. He then pulled his finger out, adding more lube to go back in with two. Slowly, almost teasingly slow, he pushed both back in with a slick, wet noise and a wriggle of his fingertips. John winced at the stretch, feeling himself spread wider than ever, but with a few breaths he was able to control the urge to clench down on Sherlock's invading fingers.

It was incredibly arousing to feel Sherlock's fingers moving within him, especially with Sherlock's weight pushing down, “You're _inside_ me...” John found himself say in an almost stunned whisper and he looked down between their bodies to watch, to witness, the shift of Sherlock’s hand, tendons fluttering in his slender wrist, muscles clenching in his forearm.

“ _Yes_. Well done. - Although, I _was_ inside you a second ago too,” Sherlock said with a huff, gently rocking his entire arm into one movement, “just in case you’ve already forgotten.”

John frowned but then nodded, realising what Sherlock meant, “Yeah… yeah I know, but this feels _more_ inside. I'm being _stretched_. Nobody else has felt me like this. Not like _this_.”

Sherlock smugly shifted, “ _Good_. Not something you’re likely to forget then? Perfect!”

John stilled, reaching for Sherlock, eyebrows meeting together quickly, “Why would I forget this?” John asked. “I don't want to forget this. _Ever_. This is – _important_.”

With a widening grin, Sherlock rocked his fingers a little more, sweeping and tickling John’s prostate, “ _Brilliant_ ,” he murmured, dropping a few kisses across John’s face with loving intent.

John moaned once more as his breathing hitched, “Gimme a second...” he murmured, closing his eyes. “That's feeling _too_ nice. It's a strange sensation. It's not like a full orgasm… it feels like it’s _all_ over my body. - Just avoid my prostate for a minute just in case, yeah?” He blushed, hiding his face in Sherlock's neck and kissing and licking at the salty skin.

Doing as he was asked without complaint, Sherlock kept his fingers away from that sensitive little gland and instead set a pleasant rhythm, thrusting them in and out of John, then spreading them intermittently, stretching him with steady eagerness, “Mark me while you’re there,” he told John.

“You don't mind it on your neck?” John asked, pulling back. “I wasn't sure if we were – going _public_? People might notice if we both have love bites.”

“...You...don’t want that then?” Sherlock asked with a furrow of his eyebrows. “To go public? To have matching blemishes? Do you _really_ care if people notice?”

“I don't give a _damn_ what people think,” John insisted, kissing Sherlock's pouting lips, making them moist with a quick, wanting swipe of his tongue. “But... I worried in case you _did_? I wasn't sure if you wanted people to know...”

“Come now, John, you _know_ I couldn’t care less,” Sherlock told him with a scoff and a roll of lust-dilated eyes. “It was _never_ me who cared. People can say and think whatever they want to, it doesn’t affect me. They’re all idiots anyway, remember?”

“Good,” John smirked. Pulling Sherlock's head to one side with a handful of glossy, sweat-damped curls, John gave the flushed expanse of the long, truly bite-able neck exposed before him a long, possessive, greedy look, and surged up to suck a patch into his mouth. He felt Sherlock's moan vibrate through the skin, and immediately began to suck harder, biting down as he rolled his hips with strong arousal and prickly pleasure. It was good, so good, to selfishly own Sherlock with his teeth, his tongue, his entire mouth.

Sherlock bucked his hips a bit at the rough treatment, exhilarated, overkeen, and panted, moving his fingers in and out of John faster in reply, “ _Yes_...yes, John.”

John moved to a fresh patch of skin and bit again, moaning and sucking much harder, becoming more desperate as arousal surged through him. It didn't take long before Sherlock had four huge bites on his neck, with John working on a fifth. A pretty necklace of John’s ownership, his jealous, proprietorial nature. He’d wanted to do it for ages, for months. Had looked at Sherlock’s perfect skin, the constellation of freckles, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the downy skin at his nape, and had wanted to kiss, nip, lick, and mark every inch of it.

As John trapped and abused the pale flesh, Sherlock shifted, pulled back his fingers, and pressed in another one with a low, long groan, “Yes?”

“ _God ye_ s,” John groaned, widening his legs again and kissing along Sherlock's jaw. “Yes… _please_.”

“I can’t wait,” Sherlock whispered fervently as he worked the digits inside, pumping them in and out very slightly, very deliberately slowly, getting John used to the sting again, the stretch again, “I can’t _wait_ to be within you _completely_...”

“Yeah. _Christ_. I...I want to _feel_ you,” John keened, hands reaching for any part of Sherlock he could find, “I want...I—I know you're clean, and _I'm_ clean, so... do we have to use condoms? _I want to feel you_. I want to know what it _feels_ like. _Completely_.”

Sherlock paused and blinked, evidently trying to focus, trying to register what it was that John was offering, what he wanted with every fibre of his being, “ _What_?--Are you sure?” he asked. “I’m...not against the idea. _At all_. Quite the contrary. Yet...you _must_ be positive. You’re a doctor, you know that doing that comes with risks, even if we’re both clean. Things could be dangerous—Heh, I see...”

“Wipe that smug smile off your face! - Yes, yes I know. I know, but I _want_ it,” John said firmly, “I want to feel you. _Please_?” With his plea, John reached up and sucked on Sherlock's shoulder, leaving a vivid purple mark, scraping over it with his teeth, breathing hot, wet air against it.

Nodding dazedly, Sherlock swallowed hard, hummed in pleasure, and pulled back to look down at him, “ _Fine_. Yes. I want it too. Of course I do. _Very badly_.”

“I think I'm ready now. We could do it _now_ ,” John bluffed, impatiently buzzing. He had no idea if he was open enough but he was desirous, aching, gagging to feel Sherlock moving inside him properly. Hooking his legs over Sherlock's own, John rocked them together, leaning up for a kiss and humming to cover his budding shyness. “Is this position good for you?”

“Oh _very_ good,” Sherlock said with an easy smile and a low moan, eyes narrowing. He gave John a kiss in return, rubbed their noses together, nuzzled across his cheeks, paused to gaze at him in lingering uncertainty, and then leaned back to look between John’s legs, spreading his fingers further apart. “That okay?”

“Mmhm,” John nodded quickly, reaching down to his own cock to give it a few tugs. He had never known himself to leak so much pre-ejaculate before, yet it trickled in thin, stringy rivers down his stomach to the bed. John smeared it onto his skin. “Not sure how long I'll last though...”

Sherlock took his fingers out, “Best be quick about it then,” he said light-heartedly, giving John’s face a deep, searching look as he smeared his own cock in lubricant. “Yes?”

“ _Slow_ ,” John whispered, reaching for Sherlock's hand to entwine their fingers together. “Lay over me? I want to feel your weight on me.”

“All right,” Sherlock breathed as he shifted to comply, pressing down and aligning himself with John’s body, flexing his hips forward to push inside, guiding the way with one hand.

John couldn't lie, it hurt. Not a tearing agony pain but a burning and oddness that made his breathing hitch, his spine lock, his muscles spasm, and he curled his other hand into the bedding, closing his eyes tightly at the slow, painful stretch of Sherlock’s hot, rigid, wet cock shoving, penetrating, its way within. There was no pleasure in the act, nothing good, not yet, and so he felt his cock gradually deflating, despite it rubbing wonderfully against Sherlock's firm, tensing stomach.

“John? You’re _hurting_. Should I stop?—I’ll stop. I’m stopping. You _weren’t_ ready. I _knew_ you weren’t,” Sherlock muttered in a ramble, pausing halfway in with a tense shiver and a hiss, strained from the effort to remain so. John knew that look, those sounds, knew what it felt like to halt the proceedings, to not enter at a quicker pace.

“ _No_...Fuck no, _don't_ stop just – it's a bit odd, that’s all,” John laughed timidly. “Keep going. I'm sure it'll get better, and once I'm used to it, it won't hurt. I'm _okay_.” He forced a smile, hoping it wasn’t too wonky, too tight, and puckered his lips for a kiss.

Sherlock didn’t seem convinced for a second or two, but bent down to kiss him anyway, “You’re _sure_? I don’t mind if we stop.”

“And waste this _perfectly primed_ arse? I think not!” John snorted, trying to release the tension as he squeezed Sherlock's hand. “Just move slow… I'm fine.”

With a nod and another squinting, searching look, Sherlock continued, an expression of high pleasure fluttering, holding his breath until he was sheathed entirely, before he let it out in a shaky exhale, “ _God_...” he wheezed with a grimace of desire, adjusting how he was stretched over and down on John, pressing closer in a bodily judder.

“How does it feel?” John asked, his other hand stroking down Sherlock's spine to his buttocks and back up again. The pain was slowly lessening, but it was still an odd sensation and so John wiggled his hips, and clenched his muscles, trying to find comfort, trying to ease it further, trying to find pleasure in it.

“I...don’t think words can describe it,” Sherlock uttered with a choking like chuckle and thundering groan. He twitched and squirmed in response to John’s fidgeting, angling his hips and thrusting a bit, still restraining himself.. “It’s...good. It’s _perfect_.”

“Okay. Okay, so...so gradually start moving now then, in and out,” John suggested, ignoring the small eye roll that Sherlock shot his way. “And kiss me? _Keep_ kissing me.”

Sherlock’s mouth slanted into a brash smile at that, eyes glinting with mirth, “And you say _I’m_ bossy?” he huffed. He did as John wanted though, rocking gently, muscles flexing, skin slicking with sweat, and only pulled out almost completely when John had grown used to the new pace, to having Sherlock within him. On the push back in Sherlock tilted his pelvis, it sent his cock nudging into John’s prostate, shooting an explosion of molten lust coursing through John’s body.

“Oh _good Jesus_!” John called out, eyes rolling up and eyelids fluttering as his hand scrabbled for purchase on Sherlock's sweat slippery back, scratching him with his nails in the process. “ _Yes_. That. _There_ … keep doing that.” The pain was suddenly forgotten now and he lifted his hips in an attempt to have Sherlock where he wanted him, penis thickening once more, toes tightly curling.

With a guttural growling-like sound, Sherlock kissed him and rutted against the same spot, clutching John to him with one hand and leaning on the bed with the other, “Like _this_ , John? Is this...good?— _God_ you feel...it’s...it’s _so much_...”

“Yeah! Yes it’s… yeah, it's good. It's _good_. I _like it_ ,” John repeated breathlessly, his eyes wide and his toes, digging, gripping, tangling in the ruffled bed sheets as he was pleasured, as he was fucked. John had never felt pleasure like this, the enjoyment of being taken, being stretched open, his prostate being rubbed, his penis being stimulated by Sherlock's shuddering belly. He felt somehow empowered. Felt safe in Sherlock's arms. He gripped Sherlock's body tighter. “Keep going… keep going _please_ , it's so good. You feel _good_!”

“Yes...yeah...s’good,” Sherlock murmured in reply, his eyes closed as he built up speed and rolled his hips, pushing a little deeper at a different angle, trying to brush, nudge, skim, and edge over and around John’s prostate as much as he could. With each thrust, Sherlock also kissed him. The kisses were random and messy and hot, and Sherlock dropped them all over John’s face and neck in pure adoration.

“I – I want – I want you to touch me. My cock. Stroke me? _Please_? Make me come?” John begged in a gasping whimper, eyes now rolling with each overwhelming touch to his prostate. The air around them was with thick and heady with the scent of sex and sweat. John's head was soaking the pillow under him and Sherlock's curls were shiny and dripping onto the bed, onto John’s face, but neither of them cared, not so close to climax.

Lifting up his heaving torso, Sherlock reached between them to take John in a trembling hand, “ _Yes_ ,” he groaned, stroking him hard and fast, his eyes half open and teeth gritted.

John's jaw dropped open and his eyes clenched closed with pleasure. His orgasm was strongly building in him like never before, taking him higher than ever, bringing his hips up further in a wanton display for more. John knew it would be powerfully intense and he quickly tried to force his eyes back open to gaze at Sherlock's red, flushed and sweaty face, wanting to watch, wanting to see him, as he tipped over the edge. “I'm – I'm _coming_. I'm going to come… _Fuck_ , Sherlock. _Sherlock_! I'm _coming_!”

Nodding wordlessly, Sherlock leaned down for a clumsy, but passionate, kiss with a moan, keeping up the pace of his hand as abruptly began to thrust into John, and against his prostate, with more fervour, clearly on the end of orgasm himself. He was trembling and erratic by the fifth rutting snap of his hips, and gasped against John’s mouth as he pushed deep and went taut. It was gorgeous, it was stupidly emotional, and John gasped out loud in appreciation just as his orgasm crested and rushed over him unlike anything he had felt before. His ejaculate spurted between Sherlock's fingers, spattering over his stomach and groin hotly in thick, pearly white strips as Sherlock cried out and rode out his own climax, shaking wildly above for a moment or two, and then diving down for an uncoordinated kiss. He squeezed and caressed John’s cock until it stopped twitching, then let him go to grip hold of his hips with both hands, grinding and rubbing into his backside, still in the throes of pleasure.

John felt like he was floating, his mind foggy as he enjoyed the humming afterglow. He moved his hands across Sherlock's skin, barely mentally aware he was doing it, supposedly needing the closeness while he languidly came back to reality with a giddy smile, “That was – _yes_ , we'll be doing that _again_ ,” he said huskily.

“Oh _definitely_ ,” Sherlock rumbled, kissing down John’s throat as he relaxed and all but collapsed on top of him. “At _least_ once a day.”

“Once in the morning, once before bed,” John moaned, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's slender waist and holding him tight. “And _possibly_ once midday too. I don't think I'll be able to get enough of it.”

“Mm...sounds good to me,” he said, sucking at John’s pulse point and then slumping into stillness. “Perhaps over the kitchen table? Or the sofa? - _Unquestionably_ in your bed.”

“And the shower… I could maybe rim you beforehand?” John suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock hummed and huffed, “All right. Why not? - New experiences seem to have worked out so far.”

John smiled, nuzzling at Sherlock even as he winced at the warm dribble of Sherlock’s escaping ejaculate, “But, as much as I've enjoyed it… you might need to pull out now. My muscles are sore and I'm afraid we might get stuck together… have to live as conjoined twins.”

With a sigh and a languorously stretching shuffle, Sherlock pulled his hips back and away, “Should have fetched those towels...”

“Oh. _Ugh_ ,” John grimaced, looking down at his lower half, at the mess he’d made of himself and the slow messy gush of ejaculate that followed Sherlock’s softening cock, “That is – that's a very strange and quite frankly _disgusting_ sensation. They never put that in the movies, do they?”

“Seen a lot of films with gay sex in them then?” Sherlock chuckled, dropping to John’s side and then reaching for his bedside table. He came back with some tissues and dabbed at John, wiping at his groin very carefully, and then dipping between his legs to mop up as much as he could.

John was too exhausted to help much and simply spread his legs, wincing again at the leaking, trickling sensation against his sore backside, “I'm not such an innocent that I've _never_ seen gay porn,” he huffed, “Plus, did you not watch Queer as Folk back in the day? Had that Aiden Gillen fella from Game of Thrones rimming the gang leader from Sons Of Anarchy.”

“I have _no_ idea what you're even talking about,” Sherlock complained as he threw the tissues in the general vicinity of the bin that John hadn’t been aware was even in his room. He then curled around John in a catlike embrace, his lithe body pushing against his side warmly, their sweat covered skin sticking unpleasantly in places. They really needed to wash.

“Two actors pretending to rim each other for _titillating_ television,” John responded, kissing Sherlock's head and then using his toes to grab for the ruffled, untucked, messy, forgotten duvet, working it up with his legs until he could reach it, and pull it over them.

John felt Sherlock shrug into his shoulder, “I used to just steal Mycroft's magazines. Mummy went spare one day when he had upset me, blaming the fallout all on me, being won over by his _lies_ – so I cut out all the naked bodies and plastered them around the kitchen.”

“ _Oh my_ _G_ _od_ ,” John giggled childishly,

“Mm. He stopped bringing them after that – so I _suppose_ I shot myself in the foot with my revenge,” Sherlock yawned dramatically, clenching and rubbing his lean toes into the skin at John's shin. “I might have a nap, you know. You've worn me out.”

“At least I know how to shut you off now,” John replied, stroking a gentle trail up and across Sherlock's shoulders as he too snuggled down into the mattress, “For future use.”

There was a soft sound, almost a purr, in reply as Sherlock fell easily and swiftly asleep in the warm embrace of John’s arms. John watched the thick, dark eyelashes fluttering as he fell deeper and deeper into slumber, feeling a great throbbing pang of affection for him.

“I _love_ you,” John whispered to the silence which surrounded them, knowing that Sherlock couldn't hear, but wanting to say it anyway, “I love you _so much_.”

Sleep washed over him moments later, a smile on his face, his future in his grasp.

**Author's Note:**

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